Standing directly in front of him, she unzipped her dress and let it fall to the ground, slipping smoothly over her silken skin. She watched as her flautist’s eyes feasted upon her naked figure and his cock began to stiffen. She knew that Robert’s eyes would also be upon her with equal lust. Standing unclothed in front of any man who desired her always gave her an unparalleled sense of power, knowing that he could only have her at her say so. To have two men so crave her at the same time made her feel like a goddess, and her own longing for satisfaction only grew the stronger for it.
She moved behind her flautist. She dragged her nails down his back and pawed his firm, rounded rear in her hands. She pressed her body against his, their naked flesh warm against each other in contrast to the chill of the night. She hoped he could feel her breasts against his back, her aroused nipples pressing into him, and her bush, coarse against his arse. She ran her hands over his chest, then over his flat stomach and on down. Cupping his soft balls in one hand, she stroked his aroused cock with the other. She ran a finger along his length, her sharp nail scoring his skin, before running it around his tip. Then, grasping his shaft firmly in a ring of thumb and forefinger, she pumped him. Measured, firm. Two cocks in her hands in one night, this was some Valentine’s Day! She loved the thought of Robert’s juices still sticky on the hand that was now rubbing another man’s penis. His shaft grew solid in her grip, but still he played on and, despite the increasing speed with which she kneaded him, he maintained the tempo of the music with precision.
He reached a pause in the music. Moving in front of him once more, she slipped her forefinger briefly between her legs and, taking the flute from him, smeared her juices on the mouthpiece before passing it back, glistening, for the next movement. He placed it up to his lips and tasted her for the first time as he played.
As the air filled once again with quavers and crochets, Francesca fell intoxicated to her knees and admired the erection before her. Totally shaven, as hard as marble and as smooth as alabaster, her flautist remained a classical work of art. She kissed him and rubbed him and pumped him. She sucked on his balls. Flicked her tongue over his eye. Ultimately, she took him into her mouth. She loved to feel the final swelling of a cock in her mouth, and adored even more the final twitches before a lover released his load, filling her mouth with warm cum. When her flautist reached his full length, his tip reached the back of her throat. She sucked him hard. Still, he played on and with pitch perfect.
As the throbbing in her mouth grew more urgent, she pulled off him, moved away a little and lay back on the grass. She coveted her own orgasms before she would let him be satisfied.
Robert appeared by her side with her replenished glass of champagne. Francesca could clearly see that his cock was being tightly constrained by the cage. God, she did like his cock. More than any other she had enjoyed. She toyed with the idea of releasing it for a little fun, but, ultimately, she resisted. Maybe a private recital after the main concert had finished, she thought to herself. She looked on the champagne bottle in Robert’s hand and imagined its long neck, chilled, directly from the ice bucket, being slipped inside her. Cold. Hard. Totally unforgiving. Later. For now, she still had the rest of her Valentine’s surprise to enjoy. Champagne served, Robert returned to his vantage point on the grassy bank above.
She stared into her flautist’s eyes. He stared back, questioningly. She nodded. He stopped playing, came to her and lay beside her. Now the true symphony could begin.
The first movement would be adagio; slow and sensual. She took a sip of her champagne and shared it with him as he kissed her. His lips were firm but gentle, as she had indeed anticipated all those weeks ago at Langhams. He stroked her hair as he explored her lips with his own. As his kisses moved to her neck, she lay back, savoured her champagne, and allowed him to pleasure her. With infinite patience he began a journey of discovery of her body, placing the most sensuous of kisses on each and every inch of her naked flesh… and on each of her thirteen diamonds. Down her neck, over her shoulders, along her arms. Each finger kissed in turn. Back up over the swell of her breasts. He teased her, kissing around them. Her erect nipples longed to be indulged. Finally, he spiralled his attentions up one breast and placed the softest of kisses thereon. Pulling slightly back, he blew onto her nipple as if blowing across the mouthpiece of his flute. His breath dried the kiss, sending a tingling arousal throughout her body. He did the same to the other whilst his hand caressed the first, rolling her nipple firmly, oh, so firmly, between his thumb and finger.
As his kisses moved on to her stomach, his hand led on over her mound and slipped between her legs. She was sodden. His fingers moved easily, arousing her the more until he went down on her fully. She felt his fingers gently part her and his tongue run along the length of her slit. He lapped up her juices, his tongue delving deeper inside her with each stroke. His tongue was indeed most supple. He took her clit into his mouth, softly suckling, and slipped his fingers inside her. One and then a second. He played her as if he were playing his flute. Firmly, precisely, sensuously. She pressed his head firmly into her and came. A slow, soft, creeping orgasm that reached the heights of ecstasy.
A short pause and her flautist commenced the second movement. Allegro; fast and furious. Without warning he turned her over with a strength denied by his slender physique, lifted her hips so that she was on all fours, and, in one smooth action, thrust his cock deep into her pussy. He felt good inside. Despite his size, he slid in easily; Francesca was dripping. He held her hips firmly in his hands and pounded her with his shaft. His hold was such that she could not move, she was at his mercy, and willingly she let herself be mastered. She felt his balls slapping against her with each thrust, and her breasts bouncing to the constant rhythm of the musician. She had been right on that count as well. He moved one hand onto her stomach to keep her securely backed onto him, whilst with the other he slapped her breasts. He slapped them hard. He pinched her nipples. He slapped her again. With each slap and pinch she gave out a little scream of pained delight. And she would swear he was growing even larger within her. He grabbed her hair, pulled back her head and fucked her even harder, driving even deeper into her wanton pussy. Her second orgasm almost took her by surprise. A fast, furious, convulsion fired through her entire body.
Her flautist pulled out of her and lay on his back beside her. A final rest between movements. Released from his grasp, Francesca wasted no time on going down on him once again, licking his cock and his balls clean of her juices. That sharp, sweet tang of her own virginal nectar, mixed with the bitterness of his early cum. It was almost too much for him. His cock, glistening in the moonlight, was straining, ready to explode. She bit it hard. And again. And once more, harder still. He yelped. She smiled at the teeth marks she left behind.